


(you're) having my baby

by aghamora



Series: Flaurel Ficlets [25]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/M, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aghamora/pseuds/aghamora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the logistics of pregnant sex are more complicated than originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(you're) having my baby

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: 'pregnant sex.' Can be read as a follow-up to [this ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4930585).

Frank has a high tolerance for stress.

He really does. Working for Annalise is about as stressful as it gets; he’s used to being screamed at at  _least_ once a day, if not more – but today had been especially shitty. Shitty, and more chaotic than usual, and tiring as hell, being cooped up in that office with barely-functioning air conditioning in the sweltering August heat. More than anything, he’s looking forward to going home, seeing Laurel, eating dinner, and sleeping, precisely in that order.  

Reaching into his pocket for his keys, he unlocks the door and steps inside. And the instant he does, Laurel all but tackles him.

She’d been lying in wait, apparently, and does an odd little half-run, half-waddle up to him from the couch, the almost comically huge swell of her pregnant belly poking out from underneath her tank top. He opens his mouth to greet her, but before he can, she stands on her tiptoes and attacks his lips with hers, in a kiss that is most definitely  _not_  the chaste, ‘hi-honey-how-was-your-day’ kind.

And – well. This isn’t what he’d counted on coming home to tonight.

Surprised, Frank pulls away and raises his eyebrows. “Well hello to you t-”

“I need your help,” she interrupts, kissing him harder, like she’ll die if she doesn’t.

It catches him off guard; Laurel can be aggressive if she wants him, sure, but she hasn’t flat out tried to jump his bones in almost two months. Normally whenever he comes home now he just ends up rubbing her feet on the couch for half an hour.

So he breaks away once more, frowning this time. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing is going on,” Laurel says, exasperated, then motions to her dome of a stomach for emphasis. “And that’s the  _problem_.”

Is that some kind of sexual innuendo? If it is, it’s not a very good one, and for a moment Frank just stands there looking at her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what she means.

As if sensing his confusion, she moves forward all at once, shoves him up against the wall with a surprising amount of force for someone so small, looks him dead in the eyes, and says:

“I want this baby out of me. Now.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” she hisses, her hands going for his belt. “Now come on.”

“Hey, woah, slow down,” he raises his voice, moving away. “What’re you talking about, Laurel?”

Finally, she gives up her assault on him and steps back with a sigh, her shoulders drooping.  

“I just… I’ve tried everything. I had spicy food for breakfast, lunch,  _and_  dinner. And I took evening primrose oil and exercised and walked around the block five times, and I drove down Castor Avenue with all those potholes because I read that bumpy car rides are supposed to help start labor, and  _nothing works_ , Frank – nothing!”

“That-”

“My due date was four days ago,” she continues. “I can’t wait anymore. I-I’m so sick of being pregnant, and I read that sex can induce labor, so just… Come  _on_. Take your pants off-”

Again, her hands go for his belt. Again, he moves away.

“Look, is this really a good idea?” he asks, tentatively. “You sure you wanna do this, when you’re…?”

He drifts off, not knowing how to put it, and all at once, Laurel’s face falls. Her eyes fill with tears almost out of nowhere, and the change is so sudden that Frank hardly realizes it’s happening until she looks absolutely distraught.

“Oh,” she mutters, folding her arms over her chest. “So you don’t… You don’t want me like this?”

Frank reaches out to her. “That’s not what I-”

“No, I mean… it’s fine. I get it. I’m fat, and gross. I-I wouldn’t be attracted to me like this either.”

“I didn’t say that-”

“You know what? Um, forget I ever said anything,” she tells him despondently, taking a step away. “I’ll just wait it out, I guess. I-”

Frank reaches out and catches her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Hey. I never said I don’t want you.”

Laurel freezes, caught off guard. Uncertainty flickers in her eyes.

“Well, you don’t, do you?” she asks, sniffling.

“You kidding me?” he scoffs. “’Course I do. You have any idea how hot you look like this?”

Laurel gives him a doubtful look. “Don’t lie just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” Frank presses, drawing as close as he can with her massive stomach in the way, and setting his hands on her hips. “You’re carryin’ my kid. Knowing that this is all mine, you’re all mine, and I did this…” He drifts off, planting a kiss on her neck. “It’s sexy as hell. I mean that.”

“Really?” she breathes. “You still like how I look?”

“You know it. You’ve never looked better,” he undertones, as he moves in to kiss her jawline. “Now c’mon. Let’s let him know his lease is up.”

“ _Her_ ,” Laurel corrects Frank, before relenting and melting against him. “And… are you sure?”

He winks at her. “As your baby daddy, I insist.”

“Oh God, you have got to stop calling yourself that.”

Frank ignores that. “So what? Think I can still pick you up and carry you to bed?”

They both stare at her stomach for a moment, considering that, before Laurel shakes her head. “Uh, maybe we should just sexily… walk.”

“That works too.”

And so ‘sexily walk’ they do. It’s not preferable, but in her current condition they’ve got to make some adjustments, and so he presses his lips down on hers and walks them backwards into the bedroom slowly, shrugging off his suit jacket as Laurel makes quick work of his waistcoat.

Quickly, it becomes obvious just how horny and downright  _ravenous_ she is, kissing him frantically and clawing at his clothes. It’s not like they haven’t had sex at all during her pregnancy; early on, the hormones had cranked up her libido to the max, and she’d been insatiable, jumping on him at every opportunity. But it’d grown less and less frequent as she’d gotten bigger and less mobile and more exhausted, and pretty much stopped a month ago – which he’s fine with, of course. But he’s missed her, so much.  _So_  much.

And if his job tonight is to get this kid out of her then… well, he’s going to do it to the goddamn best of his ability.

“ _God_ ,” she pants between kisses, as he reaches up to pull her tank top off. “I missed this.”

He gives a low hum of agreement against her lips. Her shorts disappear next, followed by his shirt, leaving him only in his slacks and Laurel in her bra and panties. Gently, so as not to hurt her, he sits down on the bed and tugs her into his lap. It’s a little awkward, because her stomach prevents them from getting too close, but he manages to make do and kisses her again, slow and deep.

“So,” he says once he pulls away. “This is really supposed to help?”

Laurel nods, and tells him matter-of-factly, “Yeah. Orgasms can bring on contractions, and semen helps soften the cervix. Helps with dilation.”

He raises his eyebrows. This sure as hell isn’t the kind of bedroom talk he’s used to.

“That… is creepily technical,” he observes, teasingly.

She scoffs. “Please, it’s not like you’re still squeamish after all my OB visits.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “But y’know, if this is supposed to be helping me get it up, it’s not really working out.”

“Really?” Laurel puts on her bedroom eyes, then, and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. “Then does… this?”

The garment falls to the side, revealing her bare, swollen breasts. And yeah, he’d always loved Laurel’s breasts before, but the changes in her body fascinate him more than he ever could’ve imagined; she looks so different, so much different, but so fucking  _beautiful_ like this. It’s like he has some primal, biological response to her, now that she’s having his baby. He can’t get enough of her; the curve of her hips and belly and breasts, the new shape of her body, the way she positively  _glows_.

A grin spreads itself slowly across his lips. Carefully, he tips her backwards onto the bed, then stands near the end of it to take off his slacks and boxers. He watches her while he does – and, much to his amusement, finds Laurel trying to reach down to remove her own underwear, only to be thwarted by her belly again and again. She looks kind of like a turtle that has been flipped over onto its back, and he can’t help but smirk at the sight.

“Havin’ a little trouble?” Frank teases.

Laurel glowers, lying back against the pillows. “Are you just going to laugh or are you going to help me?”

He crawls back into bed, obediently hooking his fingers into her panties and pulling them off. Then, he moves on top of Laurel, careful not to press too much weight down on her stomach, and lays a path of kisses across her neck, behind her ear – right where he knows drives her crazy.

“Anything for my baby mama,” he purrs. “Let me take care of you.”

With his face buried in her throat, Frank can’t see Laurel roll her eyes at that, but he’s pretty sure she does. “Cut it out with that name!”

“Mmm,” he hums against her skin, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “You like it.”

“No, I don’t,” she asserts, not very convincingly.

“Yeah, you do. You like being my baby mama. And _I_  like you being my baby mama. And-”

Laurel laughs, hitting him lightly on the arm. “If you say ‘baby mama’ one more time I’m going to murder you.”

She may be laughing now, but with her wildly fluctuating hormones and temper, Frank wouldn’t put it past her to follow through with that, and so he just nods, eyes dancing.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They kiss for a while, drinking each other up while their hands roam. Then, almost instinctively, he goes for her breasts – because, well, that’s what he usually does, but this time, Laurel winces in pain.

“Not the boobs, Frank!” she reminds him.

Shit. Sometimes he forgets how sensitive she is.

“Right,” he nods, and apologetically kisses a trail down between them instead. “Sorry.”

He moves his lips down further, over the swell of her belly, until he reaches the area between her legs and settles himself in between them, leaning in to envelop her folds in a deep, wet kiss. And he can’t see Laurel over her stomach, yeah, but he can sure as hell  _hear_  her, crying out and whimpering and making all sorts of soft little sounds to drive him on.

It doesn’t take long before she’s soaking wet and begging – and normally, he would keep teasing her like this, but he’s got a job to do tonight, and he’s keeping up his end of the bargain. With that in mind, he moves back up so that his face is level with hers, licking her tangy wetness off his lips.

“So,” he begins, a bit breathlessly. “How we doing this?”

Laurel stops to think for a moment. “Well, you can’t be on top. You’ll crush her.”

“ _Him_. And fine by me,” Frank agrees, rolling over onto his back and urging her to straddle him. “I like it better when you’re on top anyway.”

Laurel complies, but hesitates almost immediately, lowering her eyes self-consciously to her body, and then to him.

“Sorry, I just…” she exhales sharply. “I can’t do it like this either. I feel ridiculous.”

He’s about to assure her that she doesn’t  _look_ ridiculous – because he’s mesmerized by every inch of her – but before he can, an idea comes to him. Tenderly, he reaches out and places his hands on her hips, rolling her over onto her side, pressing his body close to hers from behind, and reaching his arm around to lay a hand on her belly.

“This better?” he murmurs in her ear, feeling the back of her neck break out in goosebumps.  

He places the head of his cock at her entrance, ready at any second to slip inside, and Laurel gasps, bunching the sheets up in her hand.

“Yes –  _God,_  do it, do it do it-”

In one quick thrust, Frank obeys. Of course he does. He wants nothing more than to have her, hard and rough and fast; she’s so much more responsive now, moaning and mewling his name, but instead he begins to thrust slowly, smoothly, his body rocking silently against hers in a steady rhythm as her cunt clenches around him, as if to draw him deeper. It’s good like this with her, slow and sweet. It always is.

After only a minute, however, Laurel gives a sudden groan of frustration, apparently not as satisfied as he is with  _slow and sweet_. “Faster!”

Frank hesitates, pausing mid-thrust. “I don’t wanna-”

“You won’t hurt the baby,” she pants. “ _Go faster_.”

Still, he doesn’t move. “You sure?”

At that, Laurel almost growls. “ _Yes_  I’msure!”

He does speed up, but just barely – because, yeah, he knows he can’t hurt the baby, but he still doesn’t want to be rough with Laurel when she’s like this. It’s not much of a change, but apparently it’s enough to satisfy her, and she comes surprisingly quickly after that, crying out her release into the pillow, her walls undulating and trembling deliciously around him. That does it for him, too, because it’s almost humanly impossible to hold out after listening to Laurel’s cries of ecstasy, which are louder and longer and more desperate than usual.

They stay like that, for a while afterward. He hasn’t pulled out; he’s still inside her, and he loves the intimacy of that, of still being joined while he holds her, as close as he can possibly be. Laurel’s breathing slows, and she moves her head back to look at him just then, eyes hazy with contentment.

“Anything?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“No,” she whines, defeated. “ _Nothing_. I’m gonna be pregnant forever!”

Frank smirks and draws back, kissing his way down her chest and belly once more, his destination clear. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

And he does, as a matter of fact, have something to say about it. She needs his help, and he’s bound and determined to give it to her – and if that involves going down on her for an hour, in all honesty, it’s not like that’s  _ever_ a chore.

So, like a good baby daddy, he goes to work.

Maybe it’s not for a whole hour, but by the time he’s done with Laurel, her thighs are trembling, her breathing is ragged, and his face is almost totally soaked by her, all the way up to his nose. Again he makes his way up to lay beside her, and finds Laurel’s head lolling sleepily to the side, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

“Still nothing?”

Laurel shakes her head. “No. But that was… Thank you. F-for… for that.”

He grins, lowering himself down to be eye-level with her stomach. “Hey. Listen up in there, bud. It’s time to vacate the premises.”

Laurel gives him a lazy little smile. “She’s as stubborn as you are, that’s why nothing is working.”

“That’s my boy.”

“ _Girl_.”

Frank chuckles and gets to his feet, reaching for his discarded pants. “Whatever you say.”

Laurel rolls her eyes and sits up too – and the moment she does, Frank notices her frown just the tiniest bit, nothing more than a brief downward tugging of her lips.

“You okay?”

She glares at him, annoyed. “I’m fine.”

“You su-”

“Yes I’m sure!” Laurel hisses, as she waddles her way over to the closet and grabs her fuzzy pink bathrobe. “Stop hovering, Frank!”

“Fine,” he relents, throwing up his hands in capitulation. “I’ll go make dinner.”

Frank heads for the door – but before he can get even halfway there, Laurel calls out after him.

“Frank…”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’-”

“ _Frank_.”

“I’ll stop hovering, okay? But can you blam-”

“ _Frank_!”

“What?”

Confused, he turns back to look at Laurel, and finds her with one hand on the nightstand, bracing herself against it and staring at something on the ground, mouth agape. 

He hurries over to Laurel – and it’s then that he sees the puddle of clear liquid on the floor beneath her.

He pales, and his eyes go as wide as saucers too, and he does nothing but stare at it dumbly for a moment, before glancing up at her.

“Well,” Laurel remarks, giving him a look that’s half-terror, half-relief. “Looks like it worked.”


End file.
